Daily life in the town of Malmuth, located in North East Doma, had been far from normal over the past week or so. When the inhabitants first heard of the outlying farm hamlet of Greth being laid to waste, no small amount of concern arose. When another hamlet was reported to have suffered a similar fate a few days later, the town elders met to decide on a course of action. A message was sent to the capital to request the Guard send a force to investigate, but it wouldn't arrive for a good while, and by that time it could be too late. With the town militia undermanned, the call went out for mercenaries to bolster the town defenses.

A few days later, Malmuth was filled with mercenaries, more than a score now being present. The elders had obviously decided not to spare any coin in defending the town.

For those that this story concerns, however, the tale begins inside the town hall, as a dozen or so applicants waited to be signed up.

----

Well, most of those the story concerns, anyway. For one Boreas Nethen, his arrival at the town of Malmuth was not of his own free will. In his life, one took risks, and sometimes you had to pay the consequences. Hence, after scamming the wrong man, the drow found himself being dragged up to the town center by a large man in the employ of the aforementioned scammed man. Obviously, this man had a sick sense of vengeance, and had informed Boreas that he would take the job in this town, "or else". And with the grunt watching his every move, it didn't look like he had much choice.

Saen had been waiting for what seemed like an hour in line. Standing there. Not even being able to practice with her whip in such a populated space.

Why couldn't they of just done sign ups outside?

She thought to herself as she adjusted her long green hair.

Heh, it'll be worth it though if I get to practice on someone legally, oh yes. If the mission needs to be accomplsihed by "all means necessary" I'll have such a field day. Mhh their sweet cries, their pitful whimpers, oh it jsut gives me the shivers. Haha...heheh...muhahaHAHAH!

She realized she was about to let out the same laughter she was giving out mentally and shut her mouth, her joyful smile vanishing from her face. This was business in the end though... if it crossed with pleasure, it crossed with pleasure.

Another person in line took more of a philosophical view to the wait. It might be boring, but he'd endured boredom before, and besides, there'd be plenty of excitement in the long run.

Larak's philosophical viewpoint was rather less forgiving of fools who didn't look where they were going. One or two people in the room were nursing bruised toes because they hadn't looked down quite far enough for obstacles in their path.

All things considered, this was a fairly typical job for Larak. Babysit a bunch of villagers, crunch a few heads, and move on when the job was done. He'd come to enjoy life on the open road over the years, no matter that he'd been driven to it.

With the ease of long practice, the dwarf shunted his thoughts away from the impending downward spiral. The present was what mattered. Even if it did involve a little boredom at the moment.

Ree, aka Boreas Nethen, looked around at the lovely gathering of people who it seemed he would be working with in the near future, and grunted. He had no doubt that the disgruntled former 'patron' of his 'services' who had sent him to this town would see to it that he wound up as one of the employed, so it was best to just sit tight for now. His gaze swept the room, looking for potential marks to while away the time. The man behind him, who had come to ensure his employment, would be an easy person to rob blind, but he would know right away who it was who had ripped him off.

The drow spotted a dwarf making it's way through the crowd, causing enough agitation and disturbance by his passage that, for a moment, Ree wondered if he would start a riot. He filed the face away as someone likely to be dumb enough t scam in some way or another, or at least be conned into doing all the real work while he took it easy. However standing around was getting boring...

"Hey, pal," Ree said to his 'escort', "we both know that I'm gonna wind up doing this job anyways, do you think you could arrange to get past the whole 'waiting in line' part of this and get to the point where we sit down and discuss the details?" Ree put an emphasis on the 'sit down', making it clear that it was that part of his request that he was more interested in.

The man looked down at the drow, their eyes meeting. Boreas had the sudden feeling that he was about to be thumped into the ground. The feeling passed as "Ree" noted the look in the goon's eyes change, realising that the man had kept his temper in check.

Brandon Ralhi --possessor of dragonic strength, wielder of the two-handed broadsword Alexander, and overall mercenary extraordinaire-- was standing in line.

Standing in line. What a waste of his skills! A seasoned mercenary such as Brandon had no place waiting in line like...like...some old lady waiting to purchase her prunes. And what was up with all the other mercenaries? Were they all waiting for their prunes --err-- jobs, too? What kind of job required dozens of mercenaries, anyway, and what kind of prestige can you get from being one of many...

Of course, Brandon was in no position to complain...he needed the money.

But only an idiot would think that would stop him.

"Oy!" he barked out, voice carefully projected to be heard by all. "What's with the bloody wait? Can't you hurry it up?"

That was the first thought that went through the mind of Ratch Farrell, expert gunman, looking about as he walked fashionably late into the town hall. It was a shame, really. He had been without a mercenary company since he left Valth, and while most of the folks in here seemed less than desirable companions, he had a feeling that he'd at least be able to tolerate whoever was picked for the job.

Realizing that this would take some time, he quickly found himself a place in line, and continued looking over the potential canidates.

Saen noted a stout man a few feet from her sweating excessively. Probably from somewhere cold, she though, and unusued to the "heat" in Doma.

Then, just a few seconds after the large Baronian had yelled, the door in front of the mercenaries opened, causing the attention of all those gathered to turn to the person standing in it. Just under 6 feet tall, mousy blonde hair neatly arranged and cut, and wearing a badge that indicated the this lady was a member of the militia.

"Alright you lot, single file. Sign up at the desk; name and any details required. Pay is 150 gold a day along with food and bedding, 1500 bonus if you see combat. You can get an advance of 600 if you feel you need to buy yourself provisions. Make the request when you sign. After that, head into the room after for assignment of duties."

The line began to move through, the men and women present writing down their names and the few details required. "Ree" noted, as he signed in, that he got what could be described as a "less than trusting" glance from the man behind the desk. He guessed that the proximity of the town to Riva wasn't going to make things any easier for him. Those that made requests for advancements were handed simple cloth bags, which jingled with the sound of coin. Some may have noted that one man collected more than one bag from the desk. Obviously, he and a few others were working as a group.

Finally, when the first part was done with, todays applicants found themselves assembled before a man who seemed to be the captain of the militia. Unlike most of the others they'd seen, something about this man identified him as a professional soldier. Short cut hair, garbed in chainmail and with a sword sheathed at his side, some could only wander what he was doing in this town.

"Alright then," he began, speaking in a dignified tone that Brandon quickly identified as Baronian, "I am Captain Briggins, leader of Malmuth's militia. Thank you for signing on, if only for a short while. You're aid is appreciated. If any of you are already grouped together, organise yourselves and line up on that wall. The rest of you," he continued, after indicating the wall for the groups, "line up over there."

A group of five moved over to one wall, while the other nine people moved over to the other one. After they'd sorted themselves out, Briggins moved over towards the ungrouped wall, a subordinate handing him the list which all the mercenaries had signed a few minutes ago. He moved along the line, asking questions to the first two men about their abilities and specialities. Then, he came to Brandon. He looked him up and down, noting the large sword the latter carried briefly.

"Well then, lad. What's your name?"

The fact that Brandon, who was approaching the end of his twenties, had been called "lad" may or may not have sat well with the "seasoned mercenary."

The captain seemed slightly surprised to hear a Baronian accent on the man, but this only lasted for a split second. He took his hand and shook it firmly. Brandon noted the man had quite a grip.

"Gustin Briggins. Good to see another Baronian this far East. Looking to make a career as a mercenary, aye? Anyway," he continued, not giving Brandon a chance to reply, "from the looks of you you're the sort to charge headfirst into a melee. Am I right?"

Again, before Brandon had any time to reply, the man interrupted him, slapping a hand on his shoulder as he spoke.

"Well, my lad, I'm sure you'll do a fine job. I'll keep you in mind when it comes to appointing group leaders."

And then the captain moved on, leaving Brandon slightly confused. The former made short work of checking the next mercenary; a slender woman dressed in a slightly skimpy and colourful garb, no doubt a magic user of some sort. Next in line was Saen, who received a slow and comparatively long inspection compared to the others thus far.

"Well then, what do we have here? Those wings on your back functional, or just for display, hmm?"

Dark thoughts went through her head as she remembered why the hell she had these damn things. She wondered if those worthless beings that had spawned her stillexisted. She'd make them squeal in pain.

Of course her face portayed none of these dark thoughts, her smile in fact widening. Though that actually might of been BECAUSE of those dark thoughts.

"Though mainly their eye-candy, perhaps something I can use to have my enemy overestimate me in some way, which is useful on occasion. Mhhh, oh by the way, do you think our mission orders will be to capture any foes we might encounter, or do you wish not to deal with such trouble, and just let us fight to the death? Oh and please excuse my rudeness, Saen, pleasure to be working for you captain, or so I hope." She ended with a slight bow of sincere respect.

The man nodded respectfully to Saen. She noted a small hint of suspicion in his eye, but it was less than before. Clearly, she'd moved herself up a notch or three in terms of the captain's opinion of her.

"No trouble at all. As for any prisoners, they'd be a great help to us. We still don't know who conducted these attacks, and the chance to interrogate one of the blighters would certainly give us the information we need."

He paused for a moment, looking her over again.

"To be frank, you don't look like the fighting sort. I take it you've got something that will take the enemy down from afar? Magic, perhaps?"

Saen's smile indicated that perhaps she was the happiest one there, that and the fact she was giving the captain a brief hug. "Oh thank you thank you..."

Mhhh I think I might be giving him the impression that I don't like killing people.

After a few seconds of hugging she hopped back and gave him a slight bow again. "Oh and if I may ask, could I help with the interrogation process if such is needed? Please? Pretty please? Magic? Oh yes, I do have some, but normally it isn't meant to hurt people... I let this guy do the damage," She patted the bladed-whip at her side happily."if any."

"Aye, lad," Larak said, "There's not many that get back up after I hit 'em. And give me a day or two and some helping hands, I'll make any fortifications ye have a nightmare to attack." A grin split Larak's face at the prospect. Though whether this was at the prospect of the work or what would happen if someone attacked was an open question.

Mhhh I wonder if he could help me create a proper torture room. MAke a few racks, ooo, they should have one of those.. um.. er.. whatever those things are called.. stocks! Ya those... mhh also need some chains attached to walls jsut for the hands... ooh and we need this all in a damp dark place... maybe one window that I'll have one person have to stare out at into the blinding sun mhhh..

"Fortificants, you say? Never thought I'd meet a mercenary who knew how to build himself a good defensive position. Learnt your skills before you left your clan, I take it? Anyway, I'll keep your offer in mind when I next talk to the elders."

Next up was a puffy faced man garbed in loose fitting leather armor. A mop of red hair sat atop his head, and a religion symbol hung on a chain from his neck. Boreas, who was the next man in line, noted it belonged to Falis, the God of Light. He also took note that the man advertised himself as a white mage.

When the captain moved on to "Ree" himself, the drow noted that he got less than a welcoming look from the man.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" he asked in a less than friendly tone.

Ree flashed a charming grin at the captain. "Boreas Nethen, at your service, sir. I'm a proffessional everything, or at least able to sound like one should circumstances demand it. You need it, I can find it, be it information, equipment, or odds on the chocobo races next Thursday. No one notices me, or if they do they brush me off and ignore me." Ree took a moment to inhale and at the same time let a bit of a wry expression taint his grin, in his own, subtle way telling the guard he had noticed his contempt. "I got fast hands, faster wits, and not my own small share of bastard's luck. If you got the brawns, then I'm the brains to back it up."

"I've... done some small time stuff. Nothing professional, just keeping people in charge of paperwork running smoothly." It was true, if you can call changing three small-time bookies into a major gambling ring 'nothing professional'. This is not to mention the black market scavenging gig he had headed up before the Doman Guard got to hot on his trail.

"If you want a man who can handle combat orders, that's not me, I'll tell you that straight up." It was true. He really didn't want that kind of responsibility on his head. To much to worry about. "But if you want someone who can act as quartermaster, head up an investigation, or handle matters like that, then I got some experience in that area."

Disappointment was the look of the moment on Briggins face. Boreas knew that unless he said something, quickly, that'd make him sound worthwhile, he might well be considered dead weight, and thus dropped from the job. And from the look the goon, who was watching from the entrance to the room, was giving him, that wasn't something he'd want to happen.

"Also," Ree continued without appearing to loose a beat, "I've got plenty of experience with a quarterstaff, and I can crack skulls with some decent skill. As for guard's work... well, like I said, I'm an expert on everything. I can order people to form a perimiter around an area, and make sure that they do it, just as fast as the next man, and make sure they've got weapons ready and are lookin' sharp to boot. Call the morning watch, roll the men out of bed late at night, scramble a patrol on short notice, and a dozen other things... I know how to make 'em work, even if I've never had to do it myself."

This "addition" seemed to make all the difference. A smile, although small, did make it's way onto the captain's face.

"Well, you should have said so from the start, lad. It's about time someone else with an officers tongue showed up. My boys here are good men, but I'll be damned if they can sort themselves out alone."

Without saying another word, he continued down the line, right until he reached the end, where the last mercenary waiting.

"Well, I'm wagering that you are Ratch, aye? What in the blazes are you doing this far South, lad? Anyway, I take it you use those fangled "guns" that your country is so fond of, then?"

"That I be!" said Ratch, twirling a gun expertly out of it's holster, holding it for a moment before returning it in an equally extravagent manner. "And yes I do. I come this far south to get away from the hard jobs for a while. This job is cake."

"I'm sure you think fighting raiders and brigands is nothing compared to the scraps you blighters have amongst yourself back in Valth, but I assure you, should we come under attack, it will not be "cake," lad."

Apparently satisfied with the gun slinger, Captain Briggins walks back towards the center of the room, where he was handed a piece of paper by a guardsman, who'd been talking to the group on the other wall.

"Right then," he began, his voice even more dignified than when he first addressed the mercenaries as a whole, "you will be organised into three groups, who will keep watch at the East side of town. We already have one group," he indicated the small mercenary company, "who'll take the morning shift. The rest of you will be split in two."

He looked down at his list, taking a few seconds to read over it again.

"Right. Rahli, Saen, Stonestrike and Farrell, you'll take the watch from noon onwards. Nethen," he pointed at Boreas, "will be in charge. The rest of you will take the night watch under Beralanna." This time he pointed at a slender female elf, who's neatly tied hair revealed a fair few nicks and scratches on her otherwise fair skin.

"Well then, it's just after noon." Briggins grinned, and looked at Boreas. "Nethen, I believe it is your watch now. Get to it."

Ratch smirked. At the very least, this Briggins fellow knew how to organize guard shifts. He looked about at his "coworkers". The dwarf was practically a shoe-in...the rest, they'd have to prove themselves to be worthwhile fighters.

He wandered over to where they were gathering. "So...we're gonna be working as a group, eh? Hope you folks can pull your weight."

Ree held up his hands between the Valthi and the winged woman. "First off, no arguing amongst the troops, if we can posssibly avoid it. Since we're on duty right now, we'd best get our asses out there and have a look over the part of town we're in charge of. You," Ree pointed in the dwarf's direction, "what's your name?"

Even as he was talking, his mind was whirling furiosly. He knew how the Doman Guard worked almost as well as they did, now it was time to use that information in what was probably the biggest, most rediculous sounding scam he had ever pulled: impersonating a guard captain for meager pay, and risking possible death and working long hours, just so he wouldn't get beaten and killed. It was pratically a no win situation. Pratically. But Ree was a gambler, and he knew there was no real no win situation. And with the right amount of cheating...

First things first. You gotta stack the deck. He skewered the dwarf with a glare. "Your name, man!"

Ratch rolled his eyes at Saen, not finding her comment suitable even for a response. After all, he kept his weapons in top condition, and her phallic insinuations didn't exactly make it any more witty in his mind.

With an amused snort, Brandon slapped Saen on the back, apparently more entertained by her little joke than Ratch was. He was, of course, oblivious to the amount of pressure behind such a gesture, which more than probably gave Saen something to think about.

"Righto, then, mates!" he said happily. "Who's Saen and who's Farrel? I'm assuming the dwarven bloke is Stonestrike, of course," he added with a wink to Larak. "And you would be Nethen," he added with a nod to Boreas.

Brandon waited for responses, a friendly and fully self-assured smile on his face.

The glare bounced right off Larak with no perceptible effect. "Larak," he said shortly, still contemplating the fact that Briggins had decided to put a drow in charge of his shift. Dwarves and drow didn't exactly have a long history of amicable cooperation.

Between the lunatic and the drow, this looked to be a job fraught with trouble. Well, unless they tried to murder him in his bed (which seemed unlikely), he might as well just make the best of it.

"Looks like we'll be workin' together fer a whiles, anyhow," he said after a few moments.

"Right. I'm Nethen, but please call me Boreas or Ree. It's much easier." Just because he had to play a cop captain, didn't mean he had to be gruff or unpersonable. This would be easier if things were pleasent. "Saen, Larak..." he nodded to himself has he absorbed names, "Try and grab people's names, but don't sweat it if you don't remember everything. Larak you said you knew fortifications. The first thing I want you to do is identify three areas that are fairly secure, but from which we can keep an eye on everything around our part of the city. We'll use those as watching points, and work out the rest once we've got that much figured out. Can you do that for me?"

Ree spent a few moments thinking, then settled on the appropriate sounding proceedure, and said, "OK, here's how it'll work. We'll move in teams, so as to promote safety until we work out stationary guard points. Larak and I will figure out where those are, Saen, Brandon, and Ratch, you three walk around the city and try and get the lay of the land. We'll meet back there," Ree indicated the nearest public gathering point, "and discuss what we saw. Questions?"